


taste me (the salty tears on my cheeks)

by far2late



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Angst and Feels, Arguing, Character Death, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Family Feels, Feels, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), References to Depression, Sad, Suicide, Traitor Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Traitor Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Yelling, no beta i never beta ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:47:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28665702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late
Summary: "Tommy folded over, burying his head in his forearms as he mourned a brother and the hole that his presence had left behind, whether it be emotional or physical. He had nothing of Wilbur left, just a ghost that seemed determined to die so he could move on and leave him, too. It was selfish, to make Ghostbur’s passing on about himself, but the ghost just reminded him of the good parts of Wilbur sometimes, albeit a bit dumber.Everything hurt, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to cry, it hurt to speak, it hurt to exist, it just hurt. It hurt him more than it should have, and for a moment, the crater below him was an endless lake of lava that brought him more warmth than his father ever did."ortommy, phil, and coping with the loss of a loved one.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 228





	taste me (the salty tears on my cheeks)

**Author's Note:**

> tw / suicide

Amid the smoking crater that L’manberg had become and the screams that echoed throughout the explosions, Tommy could say that he felt nothing at all. 

Everything was blurry around him, but in clear detail at the same time. His hands were sweaty and still far too calloused, arms hanging limply by his side as he looked at the wreckage. He could still see TNT falling from the sky in small clumps, everyone continuing to bomb the country just for fun. 

  
He thought he saw Hbomb up there for a moment, putting his own stacks of TNT and urging Phil to light them for him. Tommy didn’t think he could feel any sicker until he saw the smile on the man’s face as he did it. When he looked up at Phil, the man looked down at him, and the smile flickered from something kind to an expression he couldn’t decipher. Tommy didn’t think he could process anything that had happened if he tried, hands trembling minutely as he stared down the large pit that L’manberg had left. 

It was dark near the bottom, though he knew spots of water covered the ground. The hole went far enough down that he could comfortably jump down the hole and find himself dead. He breathed out a shuddering sigh as he wondered whether jumping in the Nether would have stopped Wilbur’s L’mannberg from being tarnished further. 

  
The man wasn’t someone that Tommy liked to dwell on, mostly for the sake of his own mental stability. Wilbur was most likely, the closest person Tommy had ever had. The two spent most of their days together, joking around and having the times of their life on their adventures across various lands. The shaky relationship that they had built off of fragile factions in a country far away had been strengthened through their travels, and they had found themselves closer than ever.    
  
Tommy wouldn’t even watch his back in most battles with Wilbur by his side, knowing that the older man would be there in his place. The duo wasn’t renowned for their fighting, but it was just something else that they had synced up to perfection. It was like reading each other’s thoughts but to something of an instinctual level. It felt cheesy to say so, but Wilbur had been Tommy’s person, with Tubbo being something close to a soulmate. 

Wilbur had helped Tommy through the war that had started their nation, reassuring the younger when he was going out into battle but couldn’t cope with the wounds afterwards. He was there to brush away his tears when he had to fight what he considered his friends at the time, did his best to relieve him of the guilt that came with hitting George or Sapnap with a stray arrow. Wilbur was the one at his bedside every day after the duel that had taken his second life, he was there to comfort him through nightmares of Control Rooms and Blackstone walls. 

In Pogtopia, that Wilbur was virtually gone, but shone through in small moments that Tommy held close to him. He would spend an evening yelling at him because of stress only to read him to sleep on a night where the night terrors were too much for him to handle. He would backhand him one day to harvest crops and decorate the next. The impulsive behaviour was something that Tommy had seen as a side effect of the stress that had been on Wilbur because of the exile and election, not something long-term that would change him for good. It was hard to think of your closest friends in a bad light, even if they hadn’t been the best to you in recent times. Tommy ignored Wilbur’s faults to embrace the parts of him he loved. 

After Technoblade had joined their little party, his outbursts became more controlled. Tommy could see the effect that Technoblade had on him, influencing his mindset and encouraging the madness. It was akin to stoking an oil fire with water in the hopes it would be put out; all that came was more of the same, doubling in size before consuming everything around it. Tommy still had faith, foolish faith in the Wilbur he had learned of through guitar and warm words. 

He didn’t want to think about the first explosion. Tommy edited the bloodstained sword out of his mind and ignored the bad parts of Wilbur in his death. Everyone continuously brought up the fact that he had gone insane and was a bad person, but all Tommy could remember was the Wilbur who had roamed the grassy lands of L’manberg with a dream and hope in his eyes. He remembered the Wilbur who would sing to him and Fundy in the sunset under the L’mantree, fingers strumming over chords beautifully. 

Tommy remembered a lot about Wilbur, much more than he thought Technoblade and Phil could hold claim to. He remembered the Wilbur who would play games of soccer with him and Sapnap when they had first gotten to the lands of the SMP, laughing under the sun as he rolled in front of their makeshift goal and Sapnap complained. He remembered playing a shitty bingo game when the black and yellow walls hadn’t been made, along with Tubbo and Jack. It was of old cartoon characters that they had idolized from old folktales. Tubbo had about died laughing whenever Jack had done an impression of Helga and Captain Blockbeard. 

It was easier, back then. Back when they could have picnics around the Camarvan and sit on top of it, watching the stars as they argued about what story they would read and what song from their favourite play they would sing. Everything was simple, the Antarctic Empire was nothing short of a bitter stain in the back of his mind that he resented for neglecting him. 

For all Phil did to speak about how Wilbur was his son, he never focused on him when he had been in L’manberg, nor did he contact Wilbur amid the war that he was forced to fight in his name. Tommy had been told by the man himself that he had been hoping Phil would notice him and remember that Technoblade wasn’t his son, just that he was a friend. That the two of them  _ needed  _ him. 

  
Phil had come back for Wilbur, but not for Tommy. Never for Tommy. 

No one really wanted anything to do with him, Tommy thought bitterly, legs overhanging the large crater as he sat at the edge. He couldn’t make out any of the lands anymore, and there was no way that the ground around him was stable enough for someone to sit down without fear of falling. Tommy didn’t care if he fell or not, at this point. 

Wilbur’s death never really registered, because Wilbur was always there in spirit. Tommy’s mind span endlessly with loops of Wilbur and their conversations, their travels and their lows and highs. All throughout those memories, what he knew he had was Wilbur and L’manberg, the two a constant. 

  
All of a sudden, he didn’t have Wilbur. All of a sudden, he didn’t have L’manberg. 

A bitter laugh forced its way out of Tommy as he stared down at the crater, blinking his eyes endlessly to stop tears that made their way down his face anyway. He didn’t think anything could feel as bad as Wilbur dying, but it seemed that as soon as he had made the realization that Wilbur’s L’manberg was completely  _ gone,  _ everything rained down at him at the same time. 

Tommy folded over, burying his head in his forearms as he mourned a brother and the hole that his presence had left behind, whether it be emotional or physical. He had nothing of Wilbur left, just a ghost that seemed determined to die so he could move on and leave him, too. It was selfish, to make Ghostbur’s passing on about himself, but the ghost just reminded him of the good parts of Wilbur sometimes, albeit a bit dumber. 

  
Everything hurt, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to cry, it hurt to speak, it hurt to exist, it just hurt. It hurt him more than it should have, and for a moment, the crater below him was an endless lake of lava that brought him more warmth than his father ever did. 

He could faintly hear voices behind him, but he didn’t acknowledge them. If he made the connection that this was real and not a figment of his addled mind, he didn’t know what he would do. 

The pit that L’manberg was called to him quietly, whispers floating up to his ears. 

Tommy didn’t react as someone came to stand behind him, their presence felt but unacknowledged. The man behind him seemed cold, yet warmth flooded off him in the way that he wished he could steal and give to Wilbur’s corpse, breathing life back into his pale features. 

“I hope you’ll understand now, Tommy,” Came Phil’s quiet voice. Tommy blinked slowly, eyes unable to be dragged away from the crater that L’manberg had become. 

“Understand what?” He asked, voice bland. It held none of his usual excitement, sounding like a default in the list of billions of unique tones. There was nothing in it that made him  _ Tommy _ . Phil didn’t seem to care. 

“Not to… To make governments. That corrupt perfectly good people and make them monsters.” Tommy barked out a weak laugh at the words, gaining what he assumed was an incredulous laugh. 

“Did- Did you mean don’t put teenagers at the front of countries they didn’t ask for?” Tommy asked, little giggles pursuing through the question as the rain pattered down around him, thunder rumbling now and then. Phil was silent behind him, so Tommy continued. 

“Did you think we didn’t  _ fucking  _ know how democracy drives everyone insane?” The laugh was gone, replaced with hissing words that yelled to escape Tommy’s chest. “Do you think we’re so fucking stupid that we didn’t see what happened with- with  _ Wilbur _ and with Schlatt and not see a problem? Did you not consider that we weren’t here for the democracy?” 

Tommy shook violently in the cold, fingertips going numb as he turned to face Phil, the man towering over him with an expression on his face he couldn’t decipher. 

“What for, then? A piece of land to fight over?” Phil questioned, voice still cold. Tommy wished he could look at Phil and see the man that had laughed with him what seemed so many years ago. 

“For Wilbur, I think.” Tommy turned back to where the burnt remains of the L’mantree remained, pointing to it with one skinny arm. “Me and him would sit under that tree for ages while he made up those dumb songs that he would sing back in the Empire. We would sit up on top of the Camarvan and watch the sunset when we could catch it after a day of fighting. We… Everything good about Wilbur happened here. Before Pogtopia. Before  _ me. _ ” 

Phil turned back to him as Tommy’s voice broke, the younger scrubbing at his face with one arm as rain poured down, blending his tears with water. 

“If he hadn’t fucking- fucking been holed up with  _ me,  _ he might’ve been fine, y’know? He was getting better when Technoblade came back. He was- was doing good. Wilbur was… he was turning around, at the end. I thought he was okay, so I didn’t check on him when Tubbo went up and-” Tommy cut himself off, sniffing loudly and wiping his face. 

“For all you talk about killing your son, you weren’t around very long to be his father,” Tommy whispered, eyes turning back to the crater that L’manberg had become. 

“And yet- And yet you lecture us on lessons. On what to do to become peaceful. Does this look peaceful to you, Phil? You … you say you hate the government for killing Wilbur when you destroyed what he loved the most.” 

“Wilbur wanted to blow up L’manberg, in the end,” Phil interrupted quietly, voice slow as he spoke. Tommy laughed wetly, throwing his head back to rub a hand through his hair. 

“You and I both know that wasn’t Wilbur.” The silence spoke for itself, Phil going quiet once more. It was strange, to see his only proper parental figure as nothing but a stranger. 

“It wasn’t even the government that was the problem,” Tommy whispered. “Just… Just Quackity, who hadn’t figured out Schlatt had been- been fuckin’ him up, y’know? And- and Fundy, who didn’t know how to deal with being so angry at Wilbur to him being dead. And Ranboo, who’s just new to all this and wants everyone to be friends and sunshine and rainbows,  _ fuck _ !” 

The last word turned to a shout, Phil shifting to sit next to him with a quiet contemplation about him that Tommy hated. 

“They tried killing Technoblade,” He pointed out quietly. 

“Give kids who’ve grown up in war a violent problem and see how they’ll solve it,” Tommy snapped. “Did you even know that Fundy’s technically fourteen? Or that Quackity’s only just turned nineteen?” 

“I  _ know  _ age isn’t an excuse, I know you keep… you keep saying that I  _ used  _ Technoblade or that I fucking… fucking should’ve seen it coming all along. That’s all he was saying when he was yelling, he just never fucking-” Tommy cut himself off, a pained keening making its way out of the back of his throat. 

“He’s never had to deal with dying twice for this country, y’know? Neither of you’ve had that. Me and Tubbo  _ have.  _ We never fucking… fucking used him. He was our friend, he came in a time of need. I invited him to our gatherings in Pogtopia, he spent time with us, he  _ knew  _ we wanted L’manberg back. He knew  _ I  _ wanted it back, isn’t that enough for me to say that he betrayed us, too?” Tommy questioned at the end, turning to face Phil with the question. 

Upon the man’s hesitation, he scoffed, yanking his hands back from his outreaching ones. 

“Should’ve fucking realized you’d take his side again, just like you always do. Like you always  _ did. _ ” Tommy looked up, seeing Techno’s floating armour set as the invisibility bubbles sparkled around his form from far off. “Go to him. He’s waiting for you.” 

Phil’s strangely hesitant this time around, and it made Tommy angry, shoving the man with both his hands. 

“It’s too late for you to feel sorry now!” He shouted at the man, watching him move back and get to his feet with something close to conflict on his face. “Leave, just leave, leave like you always do and go find Technoblade. Go. You’ve fucking… fucking done enough.” 

Phil heeded his words, thankfully, leaving him behind at the edge of the crater as he harnessed his trident to fly off to the man. There hadn’t been much speaking on his part, but Tommy didn’t care all that much. 

He felt lighter, after speaking his mind. It was something nice, to have just a bit of the weight he’d been holding for years off of his shoulders. Tommy didn’t realize how much of Atlas he resembled until his load lightened and he craved the feeling more and more. 

The teen stared back into the pit, remembering Wilbur. Remembering Schlatt. Both seemed so much happier when they were dead. Both had been better liked. He didn’t care for warnings, nor did he care for how much Wilbur seemed to devolve in the process of becoming a spirit. 

All he knew was that he was  _ tired  _ and he wanted to feel loved again. 

As Phil turned back to face the edge of the pit he had left Tommy at, he caught sight of a small body hurtling down the crater before being faced with a death message he wished he could pretend never existed. 

One that he wished was never his fault. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry im sad tonight and didnt want to update my ranboo fics or the techno one today please take this
> 
> i think the majority of my readers r techno apologists and i am sorry but man i cannot deal with how fast people r to write off this kids trauma and focus on him betraying technoblade. also wilburs death and how he deals w it just hits way 2 close 2 home for me so here i am lol 
> 
> thank u for reading and i hope u enjoyed, hope the lack of techno updates did not upset u LOL i appreciate u guys, stay safe and hope u know this is the worst possible way to deal with ur problems this is not good for u dont do it
> 
> might make part two? depends on if u guys want to see aftermath with no ghostinnit


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